
Class __^6:/<g.^/ 

Book ilX2J^^ 

Copghtlj" 



COPVRIGHT DEPOSrr. 



LULLABY CASTLE 

AND OTHER POEMS 



LULLABY CASTLE 



AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 



BLANCHE MARY CHANNING 

Author of 
** Winifred West," " A Heroine of 1812," etc. 



BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 

1904 



SEP 16 1904 
JJooyrtght Entry 

CLASS a, XXo. Nd. 



.Cg 



Copyright, 1904, 
By Little, Brown, and Company. 

All rights reserved 



Publislied October, 1904 



THE UNIVEESITY PEESB 
CAUBBIDOE, U.S. A. 






Dedicated to 
LOUISA HIGGINSON PUTNAM 

AND 

FRANCES CABOT PUTNAM 



PREFACE. 

'' I ^HESE little poems were written by one who 
was with us, and who has left us ; by one 
who in simplicity, purity of heart, and innocence of 
mind was a very child herself. 

She saw clearly, — child-nature was no mystery to 
her ; and, in what she has written for children, so 
perfectly, so intimately has she entered into their 
thoughts and feelings, that the appeal to them is 
immediate, irresistible. 

And to the rest of us, who must look back upon 
our childhood, the years roll away, while the child 
which dwells in us all, hidden, — sometimes, alas ! 
forgotten, — awakes again and responds to the charm 
and delicate appeal of these little poems, while, be- 
cause of them, the days seem longer, the sun shines 
more brightly, and the shadows sink back and are 
forgotten. 

To us, who were given tfie privilege of knowing 
this greatly gifted woman whose ideals were so high 



viii Preface. 

and who lived always so close to them, these and 
other poems and stories, which were left as a 
precious heritage, are a consolation now, while in 
the future they will be our constant inspiration 
toward "greater grace of living." 

Alice Aspinwall. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Preface by Alice Aspinwall vii 



Lullaby Castle. 

Lullaby Castle 3 

•f- The Dream-Gate 5 

The Dream-Ship 6 

L- The Sea of Sleep 7 

The Bird's Lullaby 8 

Baby's Counting 10 

Sleepy-Time 11 

HowThey Played "Dragon" 12 

The Fairy's Birthday 13 

''Fight Your Own Size" 15 

Dat Little Coon Baby ob Pete's 17 

The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 

The Christmas Baby 21 

The Baby's Blessing 23 

The Regiment Baby 26 



X Contents. 

PAGE 

The Coral-and-Bells 28 

Reflections 31 

The Little Face at the Window 33 

" An Angel Unawares " 34 

A Flower Gathered for Heaven 36 

"Why Not?" 38 

The Angel of the Nursery 40 

Memories 42 

To the Linnet 44 

To a Harebell 45 

Summer-Land 46 

In Autumn 49 

A Farewell to My Country-House . » c o . 50 

Snow 52 

The Nest 54 

Looking Back 55 

"Work for the Master" 57 

"If Thou . . . should'st be extreme to mark in- 
iquities, O Lord, who shall stand ?" ... 58 

"Keep Thou My Hand" 59 

"In There" 61 



I. 
JLttUabt €amt. 



LULLABY CASTLE. 

T ULLABY Castle is strong and high, 

-*— ' With turrets that soar to the purple sky. 

Lullaby Castle is strong and deep, 

With moat and drawbridge and donjon-keep ; 

And the stairs wind up and the stairs wind down 

At Lullaby Castle in By-low Town. 

All the babies of all the world — 

Babies straight-haired and babies curled — 

Babies dark-skinned and babies fair, 

All the babies from everywhere, 

Black-eyed and blue-eyed and gray-eyed and brown, 

Know Lullaby Castle in By -low Town. 

When the long day droops to its sleepy hour, 
When the petals close in the little flower. 
Over the drawbridge and through the gate. 
Some of them early and some of them late, 
Along the corridor — up the stair — 
To the big, big bedroom of " otherwhere," 



Lullaby Castle. 



The beautiful room so warm and white, 
Where the star-lamps shine with a softened light, 
The babies go to their nests of down. 
At Lullaby Castle in By-low Town. 



The Dream-Gate. 



THE DREAM-GATE. 

" T ITTLE white gate, little white gate, 

-*— ' Swing on your hinges and let me go through ! 

I see the green gardens, I smell the green gardens, 

Children are there, and I want to come too ! 

Swing on your hinges and let me go through, 

Little white gate ! 

" Little white gate, little white gate, 

Swing on your hinges and shut out the day — 
The task and the trouble, the sums that look double. 
The books and the lessons — oh, shut them away ! 
Swing on your hinges and shut out the day, 
Little white gate ! 

" Little white gate, little white gate. 

Keep you tight closed, now you 've let me go 
through ! 
The gardens are bright with the lily-bells white, 
The ruddy-cheeked roses are jewelled with dew. 
Keep you tight closed, now you 've let me go 
through, 

Little white gate ! " 



Lullaby Castle. 



THE DREAM-SHIP. 

THE Dream-ship minds no stormy gales, 
Her masts are all of gold, 
With splendor of wide silken sails, 

Red-rosy, fold on fold. 
They spread below, they spread aloft, 

They 're never reefed nor furled, 
And they will bear us safe and soft, 
The other side the world. 

We shall not see the shadow crew 

That work among the spars. 
But watch the topmast sailing through 

The shoals of shining stars. 
From point to point of silver light, 

Through purple gulfs and bays, 
As we below a-gliding go 

Along the water-ways. 



The Sea of Sleep. 



THE SEA OF SLEEP. 

THE sea of sleep is exceeding deep, 
And wide as the starry sky, 
The rocks are rough and the slopes are steep, 
The rivers run and the small brooks creep, 

But they rest there by-and-by. 
And we will sail on the sea of sleep, 
Little sweetheart and I ! 

The sea of sleep stretches far, so far, 

Though they start in their strength and pride, 

Each stately ship, with its guiding star, 

Standing away from the harbor-bar. 
None reaches the other side. 

But many and many the voyagers are 
At full of the slumber-tide. 

And the beautiful Dream-ship lingers yet, 

Waiting for you and me, 
Her spars are stout and her sails are set. 
Her decks are dry, but her prow is wet 

With the kiss of the clasping sea. 
We will sail to the islands of Fair-forget 

And the island of Yet-may-be ! 



iMllo.hy Castle. 



THE BIRD'S LULLABY. 



H 



Sings the beautiful big brown thrush 
To his drowsy mate on the nest, 
With the warm eggs under her breast. 
"Hush! hush ! hush !" 
Sings the beautiful big brown thrush. 

" Hark ! hark ! hark ! 

How the bright brook runs in the dark ! 

It will not stop nor stay, 

It never will lose its way — 

Hark ! hark ! hark ! 

How the bright brook runs in the dark ! 

" Still, still, still. 

The white moon sits on the hill. 

Her face is kind and fair 

In the mist of her silver hair. 

Still, still, still. 

The white moon sits on the hill. 



The Bird's Lullaby. 



" Sleep, sleep, sleep. 

Till the young day comes to peep, 

Till his rosy fingers touch 

The nest that I love so much, 

Till the young day comes to peep - 

Sleep, sleep, sleep !" 



10 Lullaby Castle. 



BABY'S COUNTING. 

ONE little, two little, three little sheep, 
Down where the clover grows rich and 
deep — 
Three little sheep in the purple clover. 
Count them, Baby, over and over — 
Four little, five little, six little sheep, 
Where the sweet blossoms grow thick and deep — 
Seven little, eight little, nine little sheep. 
Nibbling heads of the purple clover — 
Hush ! the baby is fast asleep 
And so the counting is over ! " 



Sleepy- Time. 1 1 



SLEEPY-TIME. 

" \\7'HAT 'S the matter, Pansy-face ? 
Can't yon keep awake 
When I tell a story 

For the story's sake ? " 
(Nod goes the curly head — 

Bright eyes blink ; 
The Sandman has been on his rounds, 
I think !) 

" Come away, then, Pansy-face ! 

Come away to bed. 
That 's the very safest place, 

For the curly head — " 
(Tripping, tumbling up the stairs, — 

Stepping on my dress ; 
The Sandman has been on his rounds, 

I guess !) 



12 Lullaby Castle, 



HOW THEY PLAYED "DRAGON." 

LITTLE Ah Lee and little Oh Me 
Played in the shade of a mulberry-tree. 
Said little Ah Lee to little Oh Me : 
" A terrible dragon I 'm going to be, 
And I '11 catch you and eat you up, little Oh Me ! " 

" Please don't, and I '11 give you a rosebud," said 

she. 
'* But dragons don't care about rosebuds," said he. 
" Then I '11 give you my tiny silk slippers," said she. 
"Why, dragons don't ever wear shoes/" laughed Ah 

Lee. 
" Then I '11 give you my necklace of coral," said she. 
" But dragons don't want any coral, you see ! " 

" How silly of dragons ! Then how would it be 
If I gave you a big currant cake ? " asked Oh Me. 
" Why, that would be splendid ! " cried little Ah 
Lee. 



The Fairy s Birthday. 13 



THE FAIRY'S BIRTHDAY. 

npITA was a fairy fair; 
-■- Eyes like blue Forget-me-not ; 
Like the Daffodils, her hair, 
Blooming in a sunny spot. 

When her birthday came around, 
Sitting on a toadstool red, 

Little Tita might be found, 

With her presents round her spread. 

For the Fairies, far and near, 
Hurrying on sheeny wings 

Flew to carry Tita dear 
INIany, many pretty things. 

Brought her necklaces of dew ; 

Early frost's fern-patterned lace ; 
Sapphire rings of gentian blue ; 

Cowslip thimble in a case ; 



14 Lullaby Castle. 



Acorn-cups in saucers green ; 

Oak-leaf for a tennis bat ; 
(Such a ball was never seen ; 

Fairies use a pea for that ! ) 

But she likes her doll the best, 
With its tiny roseleaf wings, 

And she holds it to her breast, 
While she rocks herself and sings 

"Bj-by, lullaby. 
When the stars are in the sky, 
When the sun 's behind the hill. 
When the little birds are still. 
When the silver moon is high, 
By-by, lullaby ! " 



''Fight your Own Size,'' 15 



"FIGHT YOUR O^VN SIZE." 

GRANDPA, he says, says he — 
(Grandpa, he knows ; 
Smart as a man can be ; 

What he says, goes — ) 
Grandpa, he says to me : 

" Sonny, be wise : 
Ef ye must fight," says he, 
" Fight your own size ! 

"Thet little feller thar,— 

Him with the curls, 
Fauntleroy collar, an' 

Face like a girl's, — 
Say he plays monkey-tricks, 

Tells tales, an' lies? 
Wal, he 's too small to fix ; 

Fight your own size I 

" Thet little lass of ten — 

Yes, she is breezy ! 
Plague of your life ; but then 

Best take it easy. 



16 Lullaby Castle, 



Ef a girl treats ye bad, 

Treat the girl kinder. 
' Makes ye so tearin' mad ? ' 

Wal, never mind her ! 

" Manhood ain't growin' tall ; 

It 's bein' manlv ; 
For them that 's weak an' small, 

Standin' up gran'ly. 
Like them old knights, ye know. 

It 's to despise 
Meanness an' wrong, an' so, 

Fight your own size ! " 



Dat Little Coon Baby oh Petes. 17 



DAT LITTLE COON BABY OB PETE'S. 

DAT little coon baby ob Pete's — 
Ah tell yuh fer true, she is smalit ! 
She knows bofe her bans, an' her feets, 
An' her face — she knows ebery paht, 
She '11 pint to her eyes, an' her nose ; 

An' when yuh say, " Where is yuh mouf ? " 
She larfs out so pretty, an' shows 
De cutest two teef in de Souf. 

Dat little coon baby ob Pete's — 

She coos, an' she goos, an' she smiles. 
He call her " his sweetest ob sweets ! " 

Dere ain't not a wish ob dat chile's 
But what he mus' do it right soon. 

Ef she took in her haid she would cry 
Fer dat big silber dollah, de moon, — 

He 'd want ter climb inter de sky ! 

An' Pete — he warn't allers dat way : 
Sometimes he were ugly an' mean ; 

Like de sun on a gloomisome day, 
Dat little coon baby hab been. 



18 Lullaby Castle. 



De way she 've improved up her paw, — 

clar' but de record it beats ! 
An' she gwine ter improve him some more, 
Dat little coon baby ob Pete's. 



THE CHRISTMAS BABY. 

LONG since our cradle ceased to rock ; 
We laid the baby clothes away, — 
The dainty white, long-skirted frock, 
The knitted blanket, soft and gay. 

" We have no babe." The Christ-Child heard. 

And Mary Mother in the skies, 
A Christmas gift their hands prepared — 

A wondrous, beautiful surprise, 

God's greatest miracle and best. 

His tenderest thought, — a little child ; 

A new bird in the empty nest ; 
The past and present reconciled. 

And blest the babe ^Wth special dower, 
The love laid up thro' all the years, 

Slow-growing, breaks in sudden flower — 
A thing of mingled smiles and tears. 

And now the cradle rocks once more ; 

Above it bends the sturdy brother ; 
The fair young sister leanis its love. 

Herself a tender second-mother. 



22 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 



And once again a little child 

Shall teach the old immortal story : 

Good-will to men, and mercy mild ; 
Peace be on earth ; to God be glory ! 



The Bahys Blessing. 23 



THE BABY'S BLESSING. 

IT was a day when heart and mind 
Within me waged a kindred strife, 
And both their subtle force combined 

To cast a gloom on life ; 
The sunny skies seemed hard as brass ; 
All nature spread her stores in vain ; 
I trod the dewdrops on the grass 
As though they caused me pain. 

While fretful thus and ill at ease, 

I wandered on with no intent, 
I came upon a grove of trees. 

Where sunbeams came and went 
And made a golden net to catch 

The dancing flight of purple shade ; 
It was a pretty wrestling match, 

By light and shadow played. 

And here, amid a bower of green, 
His starlike eyes upraised to mine, 

There stood an angel, as I ween. 
He seemed so near divine. 



24 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 

And yet he wore a poor disguise, 
The robe of earthly babyhood, 

As, fairer than his parent skies, 
On alien soil he stood. 

Then, as he saw my wondering face, 

Fixed on him with look amazed. 
He softly made the sign of grace. 

With tiny hand upraised. 
A smile, half bred of heaven's calm, 

Half arch with human feeling rife, 
Smote, friendly as the righteous balm. 

Upon my inner life. 

That sign of blessing which he made. 

An instant impulse, unawares, 
Drove from my heart its gloomy shade 

And peopled it with prayers. 
It told me that the Lord was near. 

E'en present in His little child, 
And, hid behind my doubting fear. 

Eternal pity smiled. 

Oh, infant soldier of the Cross, 

Who held Christ's blessing up to view. 

How many a soul is saved from loss 
By ministers like you ! 



The Baby's Blessing. 25 

Go on, uucouscious angel band, 

Keep spotless robes and hearts as white, 
Lead older spirits by the hand, 

Into the world of light. 



26 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 



THE REGIMENT BABY. 

OUR little Regiment Baby 
Was one of the rank and file. 
Safe in the baggage wagon, 

She journeyed many a mile. 
She never was sick nor sorry 

And never gave up nor cried, 
But watched us march, we fancied, 
With nearly our Colonel's pride ! 

She admired the yellow braiding, 

And the scarlet coats so gay ; 
And she used to pull our buttons 

In a really charming way ! 
She woke with the early bugle. 

And she loved the fife and drum, 
And thought the little drummer 

A bit of a baby chum. 

She helped to keep us steady. 

With those clear blue eyes of hers. 

And often preached us sermons 
As good as a minister's. 



The Regiment Baby. 



We never dared go near her, 
If we 'd had too much to drink ; 

She kept us from the Guard House 
Many a time, I think ! 

God bless the Regiment Baby ! 

She did us a lot of good. 
We wanted to keep her with us, 

And we used to hope we should ; 
But they needed baby Yonder, 

And the bugle called " Retreat ! " 
Or ever the world's long marches 

Had wearied her little feet. 

We miss her smile and her prattle, 

The touch of her rose-leaf hand ; 
But we know 't is well with " Baby," 

At peace in the tearless land. 
It was hard for us to lose her. 

But maybe — we cannot tell — 
Our baby had won promotion 

Because she had done so well. 



28 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 



THE CORAL-AND-BELLS. 

IT lay in the window 'mid scores of old things, — 
Old ruddy-gold lockets and bracelets and rings ; 
Old miniatures, faded, of faces once fair 
(The back sometimes holding an old lock of hair) ; 

Old fans and old feathers ; old satin ; old lace 
(A time-mellowed marvel of intricate grace) ; 
Old sandal-wood carvings ; old coins and old shells ; 
And there, in the midst, the old " Coral-and-Bells " ! 

I looked at it once, and I looked at it long. 
It seemed to my fancy a meanness — a wrong — 
Which might be regretted, long after, too late, 
To leave this old Coral-and-Bells to its fate. 

I sauntered in slowly, and questioned the price ; 
I took up the trinket and laid it down twice ; 
Determined to leave it, accounting it dear, 
Then turned back again, as a voice in my ear 

Had whispered, "Go buy it! 'tis well worth the 

cost ! " 
(And, oh, had I left it, what had I not lost ? 
The whisper which ever most wisely impels 
Surely drew me to buy that old Coral-and-Bells.) 



The Coral-and-Bells. 29 

I carried it home and there at leisure surveyed. 
'T was chased and embellished and daintily made ; 
The baby who owned it had used it in truth, 
And left on the silver the dint of a tooth. 

Who was it, I wondered, — some prim little man 
Of the quaint-dressing days of my lady. Queen Anne, 
With stiffly-starched apron, and cap of soft lace. 
Surrounding the curve of his peach-blossom face? 

Or, maybe, no boy, but a sw^eet baby-girl. 
The down on her forehead beginning to curl. 
With dimpled pink cheeks, and brown, starry-bright 

eyes, 
And mouth like a rosebud for color and size ? 

The vision was fair, but it faded away. 

My big empty house seemed more empty that day ; 

I wished, in the superabundance of space. 

For some one to come and enliven the place. 

The loneliness pressed on my spirits at night ; 
It pressed on me still by the next morning's light. 
The longer I waited, I felt it the more ; 
I wondered I never had felt it before ! 

That Coral-and-Bells ! It had started a train 
Of musings which could not be silenced again, 
The end of which found me set out on my way 
To visit an Orphanage long that very day. 



30 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 

Oh, pitiful spectacle ! Childhood bereft ! 
Wee, wistful young faces on right hand and left ; 
Some dull and indiff'rent ; some weary and sad ; 
Some passively patient ; some thoughtlessly glad. 

But there, in the midst of a long, crowded room, 
Fresh-hued as a daisy in infantile bloom, 
Her hazel eyes bright with a luminous gleam. 
There stood my girl-baby — the child of my dream ! 

What need to say more ? She is perched on my 

knee, 
" To watch Mama writing," — and, laughing with 

glee, 
Sets seal to the record my manuscript tells 
By patting my cheek with the Coral-and-Bells ! 



Reflections. 31 



REFLECTIONS. 

MY baby sat on the floor. 
His big blue eyes were full of wonder, 
For he had never seen before 

That baby in the mirror-door. 
What kept those two, so near, asunder ? 

My baby smiled ; those rosy lips 

At once returned the pretty greeting ; 

He touched them with his finger-tips, 
The shining surface moves and slips. 

What kept their outstretched hands from 
meeting ? 

At last he sighed ; there stole a shade 
Across his face, perplexed and troubled. 

And then he laughed, though half afraid. 
Diverted half, and half dismayed, 

To see his every gesture doubled. 

He leaned forward that golden head 
The mirror's border framed within, 

Until two cheeks, like roses red. 
Lay side by side, then softly said : 

" I can't get out, can you come in ? " 



32 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems, 

Oh, do we never when in doubt, 
Or burdened with a sense of sin, 

From our perplexed selves look out, 
And call to pleasant things without : 

'^ I can't get out, can you come in ? " 

We feel disheartened and confined 
In dungeons by ourselves erected, 

With self-raised motes of worry blind, 
While all within us seems combined 

To hush the answer we expected. 

The good we want and cannot reach. 
We see through darkened glass within, 

And call upon it in the speech 
My baby little thought to teach : 

" I can't get out, can you come in ? " 



The Little Face at the Window. 33 



THE LITTLE FACE AT THE WINDOW 

IT came with the glhit of the sunshine, 
And flutter of cherry-bloom white ; 
A fair little face at the window, 
As tender and spotless and bright. 

And when all the blossoms were scattered, 
And ripe, rosy fruit took their place. 

The same little face at the window 

Peeped out through the curtains of lace. 

The snowflakes fell fast in the garden ; 

The leaves were all faded and sere, 
And the same little face at the window 

Smiled out on the darkening year. 

Oh, innocent eyes at the window. 
Oh, eyes that are guileless and gay. 

Will you always look forth so serenely. 
As the seasons of life roll away ? 

Look up to the face of your Saviour ; 

Go forth in the light of His Sun ; 
And life shall be bright at its ending, 

As now when its days are begun. 

3 



34 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 



"AN ANGEL UNAWARES." 

QHE came when summer roses threw 
^ A crimson blaze across the lawn, 
And summer skies, serenely blue, 

Glowed down on golden fields of corn. 
She came, an answer to our prayers. 

To be an angel unawares, — 

A sweet, pure presence in the place ; 

A bright embodiment of day ; 
The secret of a simple grace 

To smooth the furrows of the way ; 
A loving heart for others' cares. 

An infant angel unawares. 

The lustre of two soft, gray eyes, 

The echo of a laugh of glee. 
The beauty of a glad surprise. 

Are all that time has spared to me, 
For I am left with tears and prayers 

To mourn my angel unawares. 



An Angel Unawares." 35 



Yet ever through the minor chords 
To which I tune my shattered days, 

There comes a whisper of sweet words, 
A sadder swell of love and praise ; 

And whence these strange and heavenly airs, 
But from my angel unawares ? 

Hope's rainbow spans the fading sky. 
Where youth's bright sun is sinking low, 

And peaceful fields of promise lie 
Beyond the golden after-glow. 

Where, safe from earth and worldly cares, 
Abides my angel unawares. 



36 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 



A FLOWER GATHERED FOR HEAVEN. 

HE was like the flower that blossoms, 
Fresh and pure, amid the snows, 
Born to shed a fragrance round him 
Like the tender Christmas Rose ; 
And ere long the sacred dewdrops 

From his brow had died away, 
He was gathered for the gardens 
Of the Palace far away. 

We were left, and he was taken ; 

We were left, we thought, alone ; 
But a glory shone around us 

From the jewels of the throne. 
And when in the night we wakened. 

With a feeling of despair. 
Breaths of heaven fanned our faces. 

And we felt that he was there 1 

It was sad to lose our darling — 
He, our first-born and our boy ; 

But we feel our sorrows lightened 
In the knowledge of his joy. 



A Flower gathered for Heaven. 37 

For we know that he is happy 
In the Shepherd's lovmg arms, 

Safe from blight of sin and sorrow, 
Sheltered from earth's rude alarms. 

Gentle eyes are ever watching 

From the city's pearly gates, 
Little hands stretched out to beckon 

To the loving heart that waits ; 
He is watching, looking, longing, 

For the breaking of the day. 
He will meet us in the morning. 

When the shadows flee away. 



38 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 



"WHY NOT?" 

HE leant against the window pane, 
With brimming eyes too full to see 
The crystal javelins of rain 
Or me. 

He did not note the busy birds ; 
The world seemed one wide, wat'ry blot ; 
His sweet lips pouted forth the words : 
" Why not ? " 

" Why not ? " The murmur once again 
Between two sobbing breaths came low : 
" I might go out in this warm rain, 
I know 1 " 

I went and knelt beside the child ; 

I kissed his soft cheeks, dewy red ; 

Until he ceased to pout, and smiled 

Instead. 

And presently the summer shower, 
Spanned by a rainbow, passed away. 
My boy was out in half an hour 
At play. 



''Why not?'' 39 



I heard his merry shouts of glee, 
Which told the recent trial forgot ; 
And yet his words came back to me, 
'' Why not ? " 

The question we too often ask. 
With bitter tears and rebel heart. 
When God has set for us a task 
Apart. 

That hardest task, to watch and wait, 
To hear the distant battle strife, 
Like blind men sitting at the gate 
Of life. 

And so we faithlessly complain, 
With brimming eyes too full to see 
How God's great love and our great pain 
Agree. 

But let us wait, when life's last hour 
Brings near the dawn of perfect day, 
And sorrow passes — like the shower — 
Away. 

God's mercy, shining on our tears. 
Shall rainbow tint the darkest spot. 
And solve the problem of the years — 
"Why not?" 



40 The Christmas Baby and Other Po&nis. 



THE ANGEL OF THE NURSERY. 

HE sits in the shadowy corner, 
With wings of a silvery sheen, 
Our beautiful nursery angel, 

Whose presence is felt, but not seen. 

We know he is there in the morning ; 

When the red light creeps o'er the sill, 
His kisses fall warm with the sunbeams 

On childish brows slumbering still. 

We know he keeps guard by our darlings ; 

All through the long watches of night 
The silvery wings are unfolded 

Above the bed-canopies white. 

But we feel him most near in the gloaming. 

And fancy his starry blue eyes 
Shine out, in the purpling twilight, 

With looks that are loving and wise. 

Our beautiful nursery angel. 

The first little bird in our nest, — 

We thought he was lost when God called him ; 
He 's nearer to us than the rest. 



The Angel of the Nursery. 41 

For we feel how God lets him revisit 
The scenes of his babyhood's joys, 

And watch o'er his brothers and sisters 
At play with his own little toys. 

And we think, though he is now an angel,* 
The lips which are hallowed to praise 

Unfolded from their flowerlike sweetness 
To smile on such innocent plays. 

Our nursery basks in the sunlight ; 

It echoes with laughter and mirth ; 
And we thank God for each of our children, 

But most for our angel on earth. 



42 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 



MEMORIES. 

I USED to meet her by the burn 
That runs o'er silver shingles, 
With many a bend, and many a turn, 
Among its mossy dingles, — 

A little maid with startled eyes, 
And cheeks as brown as berries, 

Lips parted in her shy surprise, 
And red as ripened cherries. 

She was a grave and silent child, 
And yet she liked our meeting. 

She seldom spoke, but always smiled 
An answer to my greeting. 

She brought me harebells, blue and white, 
And sprays of purple heather, 

And stems of foxgloves, crimson bright, 
And wild rose tied together. 

Full many a year has passed since then, 

But still I see before me 
The vision of that Highland glen, 

And memories crowd o'er me. 



Memories. 43 



I see again those startled eyes, 
And cheeks as brown as berries, 

Lips parted in a shy surprise, 
And red as ripened cherries, 

And fancy breathes, in fresh delight, 
The scent of purple heather. 

And sees the harebell, blue and white, 
And wild rose tied together. 



44 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 



TO THE LINNET. 

MERRY, cheerful, thoughtless linnet, 
Heaven bless thy trilling song ! 
Heartfelt, thankful joy is in it, 
Dropping music all day long. 

Light as thistledown or feather, 
Borne aloft on summer breeze. 

Caring not for wind or weather, 
Dweller in the woodland trees ! 

Bird, thou dost possess a treasure 
(Little guessing of its worth), 

In thy true and healthy pleasure, 
In thine all unclouded mirth. 

Knowing nought of care and sorrow. 
Flying free o'er heather braes. 

Trusting to a tranquil morrow. 
Thus to spend thy golden days ! 



To a Harebell 45 



TO A HAREBELL. 

A LITTLE breath of azure life that swings 
Upon an airy filament of green, 
To which, all tremulous, it partly clings ; 

Like to a pair of folded fairy wings 
Drooped on the dancing shoulder of their queen. 

Methinks the fresh and merry breeze might rend 
Thee from thy stem, and carry thee away. 

But, no ! I see thy graceful blossoms bend. 
As if to list the whisper of a friend. 

And bow thyself, assenting, to his sway. 

Oh, if mine ears were not so dull and poor, 
I might thy silvery chimes at night discern. 

And see across the moonlit stretch of moor, — 
If but mine ears were wide awake and pure, — 

The elfin circles traced among the fern ! 

Enough, I am but mortal and must bear 
My mortal weakness without complaint ; 

Take thou my love, oh, harebell ! flowret fair, — 
Immortal in immunity from care, 

A child of earth, without an earthly taint ! 



46 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems, 



SUMMER-LAND. 

ROUND the house the rude winds blow, 
Hooting, hurling sleet and snow ; 
Through the gray gloom of the sky. 
Clouds, like storm-birds, hurry by ; 
But my thoughts are out of hand, 
Wandering in summer-land. 

There forever sapphire seas 
Flash through gracious groves of trees ; 
Baby-waves, with laughter sweet. 
Play and prattle at their feet, 
Lapping, lapping on the strand. 
White and warm, of summer-land. 

Rose and pink and mignonette, 
Honeysuckle, violet, 
New-mown hay, and balsam pine 
Blended in one essence fine, — 
Perfume of no mortal brand, — 
Makes the breath of summer-land. 



Summer-Land. 47 



Now, I seem to lie and float, 
Cradled in a little boat, 
Reedy river-reaches through. 
Under skies of smiling blue, — 
Float, nor need to stir a hand. 
Drifting down thro' summer-land. 

Cat-tails guard the gliding bank ; 
Golden buttercup grows rank ; 
Silver circlets splash and spread, 
Where a shy fish lifts his head ; 
Blue and yellow iris stand. 
Ankle-deep, in summer-land. 

Far away the wood-thrush sings ; 
Everywhere 's a whirr of wings. 
Bees o'er purple clover croon 
Endless slumber songs of June ; 
Jewelled flies dance saraband 
To the pipes of summer-land. 

Faint and fainter on my ear 

Comes the thrush-note sweet and clear ; 

In an opal-tinted haze 

Swims the vision as I gaze. 

Sleep has bound me, foot and hand. 

Prisoner in summer-land. 



48 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems, 

Soft and softer — slower — so, 
Let the drowsy voyager go ; 
Heavy-lidded, lulled from pain, 
Soon enough to wake again. 
Rouse not yet with rough command 
From the dream of summer-land. 



In Autumn. 49 



IN AUTUMK 

THE smokeless chimneys, void and cold, 
Stand sentry on the silent roof. 
Where nesting sparrows, blithe and bold, 
Have summered safe, without reproof. 

The white hydrangea wastes its mass 
Of ivory blossom, flushed like morn, 

Above the riot of the grass, 

The tangle of wild weeds, unshorn. 

A few dry leaves drift through the porch, — 
The first to fade, the first to fall ; 

The ivy fires its carmine torch. 

And flames against the western wall. 

Soon shall the empty dwelling stir. 
Thrill with the throbbing life it lost, 

Break open like a chestnut-burr. 
At the first coming of the frost ! 



50 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 



A FAREWELL TO MY COUNTRY-HOUSE. 

FAREWELL, ray Country-House ! The days 
Of golden lights and flashing seas, 
And fanning flicker of the trees, 
Are lost in autumn's misty haze. 

Across the white porch-pillars glow 
The dying creeper's crimson leaves ; 

With the last harvest-home of sheaves 
The heavy- wheeled farm-wagons go. 

My little room seems lone and bare, 
Tlie books and trinkets packed away ; 

The screens of peacocks' feathers gay 
No longer light the fragrant air. 

Hampers and trunks stand packed for town, 
And summer things put out of sight. 

The gleeful children, all delight. 

With burdened arms, run up and down. 

And still the monthly roses kiss 

The window-panes, as sweet and fair 

As when the summer's beauties were. 
It seemed — so far away from this ! 



A Farewell to my Country-House. 51 

I shed some secret tears, apart ; 

All changes seem as things to fear ; 
And our delightful summer here 

Is warm against my clinging heart. 

But, my foolish soul, be strong ! 

Life has no room for idle hands ; 
And I must follow His commands 

Who daily leads my feet along. 

Another spring is on its way, 

Weaving, thro' all the snow and cold 

Of winter months, the blue and gold 
And glory of another May. 

There is no winter for the soul 

That walks before its God in light ; 

There is a day without a night. 
Set in the summer of the goal ! 



52 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 



SNOW. 

A COMING darkness in the western sky, 
A fringed tattered banner folds unfurled, 
And white-shod couriers falling as they fly. 
Upon the dusky bosom of the world. 

They issue, frail as infant souls untried, 

Swift speeding to the unknown plains below, 

Unconscious of the dangers that betide, — 

The greedy mire and cart-wheels grinding slow. 

Now with the rush of mounted legions fleet, 
The dazzling atoms charge in mimic fray, 

Cooling the lurid air with frozen feet, 

And flinging wide their glancing spires of spray. 

Now in a calm and languid eddy sweep, 

Slow circling in a whirlpool round and round, 

Till, wearied by their flight, they sink to sleep, 
Upon the silent carpet of the ground. 

They drop more slowly now, the feathered flakes. 
By twos and threes, and through a misty rift 

In yon gray cloud a sudden sunbeam breads 
And gilds the fairy feathers as they drift. 



Snoiv. 53 

'T is gone ! The sunlight glitters bright and warm 
Upon a thawing landscape from a sky 

Blue with the after freshness of a storm, 
And cloudless as a morning in July. 

And nought is left of that great host of snow, 
But melting heaps, and watery paths and pools. 

Which footsteps fast, and cart-wheels grinding 
slow, 
Reduce within the common roadway's rules. 

So melt our dreams in youth, as pure and bright. 

Enough, if we may water with our tears 
Some plant which, rescued thus from dust or blight. 

May give us fragrance in our after years. 



54 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 



THE NEST. 

IT sways against the shining sky, 
Tossed by the romping breeze. 
The yellow swirl of leaves sweeps by, 

Torn from the bending trees. 
Ah, warm love-life of last July ! 
Ah, passion of " mad minstrelsy I " 

Nay, but the budding wings that grew 

Strong for their splendid flight, 
Straight-stretched across long leagues of blue, 

For realms of far delight. 
The nest grows old in frost and dew. 
But Love and Life are always new. 



Looking Bach, 55 



LOOKING BACK. 



I KNEW him once whom they call Love. He 
came 
Not when spring's daisies decked the open lea, 
Nor when the summer's tropic heats, aflame, 
Drew on in glorious glow, Love came to me. 

He came in laughing guise when scarlet leaves 
Made carpet rich for our unheeding feet ; 

He throned us on the gold of gathered sheaves, 
And crowned us with grape-tendrils, fair and 
sweet. 

He pelted us with beech-nuts ripened brown ; 

He lost us in the brambles' witching maze, 
And shook the red and russet apples down 

Upon us in those splendid autumn days. 

II. 

I cannot tell the time they ceased to be, 

Nor when the frosts first nipped their guileless 

joy; 

I woke from drifting on an opal sea, 
To find a wintry world, and I — a boy ! 



LofC. 



56 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 

I only know that they are far away, 

Not lost — God never gives His gifts in vain, 

But stores them for us, where, some future day, 
We may enjoy them without fear of pain, 

Where, in the endless season of His love, 
All things are perfect, and without a flaw ; 

And in the glory of that life above. 

Perchance my autumn days will live once more ! 



''Work for the blaster:' 57 



^^WORK FOR THE MASTER." 

THE Master calls ; while yet the early dawn 
Hangs on the eyelids of the golden day. 
Bright dewdrops gem the ripened ears of corn ; 

Cool breezes all the vines' sweet tendrils sway ; 
Soft radiance silvers over land and sea : 
" Why stand ye idle ? " " Come and work for me." 

The Master calls ; and now the sultry noon 
Burns in the cloudless azure of the sky. 

In the dim distance whirls the wild simoon, 
And heat doth reign in sullen sovereignty. 

Through the still air comes the commanding plea : 

" Why stand ye idle ? " " Come and work for me." 

The Master calls ; and now the languid sun 

Sinks slowly o'er the parched earth's sandy rim ; 

The toil, the pleasure of the day is done ; 
The cedar casts its spiry shadow slim ; 

Th' eleventh hour is come. Once more to thee, 

The Master calleth : " Come and work for me." 



58 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 



HE WILL NOT BE EXTREME TO MARK. 

"If Thou . . . shouldst be extreme to mark iniquities, 
Lord, who shall stand ? " 

'' TF HE should be extreme to mark — " 
^ greatest, teiiderest heart of all ! 
Immortal eyes that pierce the dark, 

Nor miss a single sparrow's fall, — 
He will not be extreme to mark ! 

So take I comfort to my soul ; 

My sorry soul that errs and slips, 
A thousand times turned from its goal ; 

Sinning with heart and hands and lips, — 
My weak, unstable, faithless soul ! 

He will not be extreme to mark 
The barren years, the blighted crop, 

The sterile vineyard, dry and stark, 

Though the sun shines, the soft rains drop. 

He will not be extreme to mark. 

Bright shines my hope against the dark ; 

He doth not judge as Man, nor quench 
The smoking flax' half-smothered spark. 

So, when He calls, I need not blench. 
He will not be extreme to mark. 



Keep Thou my Hand." 59 



"KEEP THOU MY HAND." 

KEEP Thou my hand : I gave it Thee 
When first the dews of earthy years 
Begemmed my fancy's pastures free, 

And when mine eyes, undimraed by tears, 
Gazed fearless on those hills of time 
Which glowed so bright at morning prime. 

And when I found that I must drop, 
As faded buds that could not blow, 

Some of those hopes, I might not stop 
To grieve o'er shattered joys below, 

Then Thine the hand whose friendly grasp 

Returned my weak and nervous clasp. 

Keep Thou my hand when life's long day 
Draws to the sunset of its close, 

And lengthened shadows span the way 
Which leads me to my calm repose, — 

Keep Thou my hand, nor leave my side 

When crossing Jordan's solemn tide. 



60 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems. 

Then, when I rise to droop no more, 
Young with an everlasting youth, 

And find the misty dreams of yore 
A living glory and a truth, — 

Keep Thou my hand and lead me still, 

When perfect in Thy perfect will. 



''In There." 61 



"IN THERE." 

I CALLED my two years' baby girl 
From all-absorbing play, 
To ask her of the whereabouts 
Of one long leagues away, — 
In idle curiosity 

To know what she would say. 

She pushed aside the tumbled curls 

From off her forehead fair, 
Looked smiling up into my face, 

With bright, confiding air. 
And pointing to a half-closed door. 

Said happily : " In dere I " 

Ah ! child, I thought, my eyes grown wet. 

If always I might be 
As sure about the ones who sailed 

Out on the unknown sea, 
As sure about the further side 

Of Death's great mystery ! 



62 The Christmas Baby and Other Poems, 

No need to measure time or space, 
To speak of " here " and " there " ; 

The Father's arms, the Father's love 
Make Heaven everywhere, — 

And while our dear dead seem so far. 
Perhaps they 're just " in there ! " 



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